I talk to my typewriter and that is what I've been working on for 40 years-how to write for talking.
You work hard on a book and throw it out there and then it's beyond your control.
When you are five, you know your age down to the month. Even in your twenties, you know how old you are. I'm twenty-three you say, or maybe twenty-seven. But then in your thirties, something strange starts to happen. It is a mere hiccup at first, an instant of hesitation. How old are you? Oh, I'm--you start confidently, but then you stop. You were going to say thirty-three, but you are not. You're thirty-five. And then you're bothered, because you wonder if this is the beginning of the end. It is, of course, but it's decades before you admit it.
Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work, but important.
After sixty-one years together, she simply clutched my hand and exhaled.
Must protect my little pockets of happiness.
The sky the sky- same as it always was.
Our beds are empty two-thirds of the time. Our living rooms are empty seven-eighths of the time. Our office buildings are empty one-half of the time. It's time we gave this some thought.
I know in whom all my highest hopes and dearest joys are centered. I know in whom my whole heart can rest — so sweetly and so surely.
The shot from Laws was precise but wide.
The Buddhists say there are 149 ways to God. I'm not looking for God, only for myself, and that is far more complicated. God has had a great deal written about Him; nothing has been written about me. God is bigger, like my mother, easier to find, even in the dark. I could be anywhere, and since I can't describe myself I can't ask for help.